


Desperation

by attackonhanji



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Depression, Sad, Sad Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 12:03:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1817791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attackonhanji/pseuds/attackonhanji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles often wondered if anyone really cared at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperation

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this is just sorta something sad i wrote and decided to loosely base it on stiles?? like when he was suffering really badly with anxiety and stuff but i put more of a depressive spin on it. its pretty short but i wrote it when i wasnt feeling too great and its more of my own feelings vented into a short little drabble!! feedback is appreciated~~

He felt like his head was going to collapse.

Every last thought, memory and dream would be squeezed out through the gaping hole of disappointment that had become present in the side of his head. The hope that had been established and built over the duration of his life would fizzle out, just as he wished his existence would. There was too much to absorb all the time, but yet, not enough. Too much constantly occurred; enough to make him dizzy with misunderstanding, yet not enough to fill what had been taken from him. Sick, broken, humiliated: those were the words that circulated through his blood, that flowed through his heart like shards of glass, every moment slicing and cutting more and more, until the destruction was evident in his physical state. The lull of sadness in his chest was heavy, now, pulling him down in hopes of him never getting up. 

Although it felt like a pain, it was more of an ache. An everlasting ache, in fact. It would make its appearance when he felt most alone, when he felt most hopeless. It took little to induce the arising of the feeling, but once summoned, it would stay and develop. It would quickly become worse, until it became almost completely unbearable. It would gain in power, it would claw and would scream and would do anything it could to cause more pain. It would make him pull at his hair and force out the tears that had accumulated in his eyes, making him fall to his knees and scream and wish to be somebody, anybody else. And then, when it felt like it was at its worst, it would stop. It would become dormant, only to be replaced with a dull, numb feeling; he could never tell which was worse. 

Everyone else had left him. His friends were either dead or uncaring, and he was certain his dad glared at him with disapproval, ashamed of his destructive, broken son. Worthless, unwanted, desperate. Desperate for a new beginning, desperate for change, desperate to no longer feel this way. ‘It gets better’ they said, dismissing his feelings in care for people that carried more value; that appeared to be the extent of their concern. It hurt. It hurt to know how alone he actually was; the thought of care that would erupt from his ending of existence seemed to dwindle as time passed. No matter how much attention he received, no matter how many people told him they needed him, it was difficult, almost impossible to believe. But, no matter how hard he tried to hold on and listen to those who attempted to support, it wasn't enough.

It was never enough.

There was one way to end it, one day to disappear and never have to feel the way he did, ever again.

He would finally let go.


End file.
